Peculiarities Of Russian Fishing. Part One.

Thursday 23rd of August 2007

The day of the fishing trip had finally arrived. The plan was for 5 blokes, (Oleg, Igor, Vadim, Anatoly and I) to head off to the lake, fish, spend the night and then return in the morning.
I love fishing! I love every thing about it. The fact that I was the only one who spoke English, had no idea of where we were going or what to expect, only added to the excitement.
The peculiarities of a Russian fishing trip emerged right form the start. Vadim picked us up in his fishing truck. Not some wimpy little Land Cruiser or Hilux, but a huge Soviet era troop carrier. Cracked windscreen, enormous back canopy and badged up with the old USSR symbol, this vehicle looked like it had done its job for the motherland. The 5 of us were due to sleep in the back and from the look of the truck, without any problem. Then the packing began. If you have read my blog on the beach trip you understand the amount needed for an afternoon at the beach. Multiply that 5 times!
Truck packed to the hilt, Oleg, Anatoly and I jumped in the back, while Vadim and Igor drove up front. 5 minutes into the trip the rituals of Fishing began. Out came the vodka, pickles, bread and sausage. We were to toast the 500 years of the cucumber. Russians are quite inventive when it comes to finding a reason for a drink. Looking down at the carton of Vodka, I declined on the drink and settled for the pickles and sausage.
The lake was 55km away. The last 10km being off road and on the toughest track I've ever been on. There were times when the truck tipped into a horizontal position and life quickly flashed before me. The guys kept reassuring me that this was a very good truck and all was net problem, even if it looked like it had come strait from the Eastern Front. Just when my nerves were ready to break what loomed ahead was spectacular and made the madness of the trip worthwhile. Before my eyes stretched an enormous lake, rolling hills in the background and not a sole to be seen anywhere. Back home a place like this would have dozens of campers, sailor and windsurfers all over it.
We began to unpack and set up our make shift campsite. Kitchen, canopied eating area, and blow up dingy were erected. Great, finally the fishing can begin. Oh no, we must eat and drink first, I was told. Out came the food and vodka as we settled in for the afternoon. One curious point i noticed after unpacking was the absence of fishing rods. Were we ever actually going to fish? And if so, how?
The situation looked ominous as my fellow fisherman progressively became more intoxicated and less likely to be able to do anything except fall asleep.

Stay tuned as the Peculiarities continue in my next installment...